


Fixing Time, again.

by Kyni, OrphielBurrito



Series: Of time and universes [12]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bill Potts Deserves Better, Fix-It, M/M, No Lesbians Die, Other, There is gonna be science at some point sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 01:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13156167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyni/pseuds/Kyni, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrphielBurrito/pseuds/OrphielBurrito
Summary: After a disastrous attempt by the Doctor to drive their TARDIS, they and the Master land in an alternate timeline - where the Twelfth Doctor is not a good person, the Master has regenerated, and Bill Potts is treated terribly. Time to make things better. (NOT in chronological order with the rest of the series)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [natalunasans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalunasans/gifts), [ModernWizard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ModernWizard/gifts).



> This is a fix-it fic of S10's finale. It's set in the alternative universe you may be familiar with if you've been reading this series - but much, much later in time than "So let's set the world on fire". As such, it contains MAJOR SPOILERS for what's gonna happen. Ye be warned.

“Now... where are we?”

The Doctor, twelfth of their name, stood quite astonished in the middle of a deserted corridor, without a single clue of where their TARDIS had brought them this time.

“You tell me,” grunted their companion. “I wasn't the one driving. Quite obviously.”

The Master extracted himself from the ship and shook his suit jacket to extinguish the flames that had started to crawl on it. The TARDIS hadn't quite enjoyed the Doctor's latest feat in terrible driving.

“Let's leave,” he suggested after giving the surroundings a quick look. “I don't like this place.”

But of course, the Doctor didn't listen. When did they _ever_ listen anyway? Not when he was talking, that was certain. They were already bouncing around the corridors, running towards certain death or at the very least excruciating danger, and all of that with the pleasant smile of a gentle grandfather on his way to distribute Christmas presents. Unfortunate.

“This looks like a spaceship,” stated the Doctor as if they were talking to their usual human companions. “A gigantic spaceship. Miles long. Hundred of miles!”

“Please take off this ridiculous hat,” groaned the Master before snatching the old top hat from their head. “I thought we settled that one eons ago. No top hat. You don't make sense when you're wearing the hat.

\- Because I make more sense without it?

\- Not usually, but you're vaguely more tolerable.”

The Doctor grinned and poked their head through an open door. Hospital beds. People in hospital beds. The Master massaged his temples, knowing far too well how  _pleased_ they were at the idea of people in need of saving. Millennia had gone by, they were the oldest, most dangerous, most powerful creature in the Fourth Universe, and they still couldn't resist the slightest bit of a challenge. The Master supposed that, in a way, they were just bored. He was, too. After all the wars and the adventures and the escaping death (and, once or twice, Death) very narrowly, the Master had finally decided to retire and spend the rest of his existence sipping cocktails on a sunbathed deck on New Gallifrey. Quite unfortunately, he was married to a creature who could not, ever, in any circumstance, just sit still and enjoy the Sun.

After the first two millennia, he got sort of used to it.

The Doctor was messing about with the people in the hospital beds. Cybertechnology. Obviously. They seemed unfazed by that, despite the most recent events with Cybermen... but then again, the Master knew very well that what had been the most painful for them wasn't the CyberWar, but everything happening around it. Still, it was somewhat odd, seeing them saunter around like they weren't in the middle of a Cyber Hospital.

“Doctor. Cybertech. That means Cybermen around.

\- I know.” Nothing more. Still, they were trying to figure out what was going on and not running back to their ship. Dammit. That was to be expected.

_Pain. Pain. Pain._

“These people are in pain,” stated the Doctor, as if it were not completely obvious from the word repeated over and over again. “See if you can find any form of painkiller around.”

They started fumbling with the IV when footsteps and voices interrupted the two Time Lords. The Master was quickest to react and dragged the Doctor away, away from the people screaming in pain, away from danger. That wasn't an easy feat. These were people. Cyber-people, human people, it didn't matter, not anymore. This Doctor had seen enough suffering to not make a distinction between species – where there was pain, there needed to be relief. Understanding. Soothing.

And even he, the Master of Survival, could understand that. Years and centuries of travelling alongside this impossible creature he called his spouse did soften him a bit, in the end, or at least made him consider more sentient beings as “people”. Before that, “people” had been... well, him. The Doctor, occasionally, when they weren't being a pain in the arse. And that was pretty much it.

But he had friends now. Hell, he even had a _family,_ and one that had shown it wouldn't die so easily. That had taken its toll on his general stance of despising everything that wasn't him or his Doctor.

All considerations of actually caring about things and beings aside, there still remained the problem of getting them both out of danger. The Doctor had finally caught up and decided, in a very uncharacteristic moment of lucidity, that they both needed to get out of the way and figure out the big picture before acting. At least they had learnt from him too.

The two Time Lords huddled next to the door of a seemingly empty room they had found, glancing through the door left ajar. No life sign in sight. Even if there was, this seemed to be a cupboard of some sort, a storage unit where nobody would feel the need to go look for them. Good.

But someone behind cleared their throat.

The Master and the Doctor turned around and the Doctor immediately jumped into their friendly-inoffensive-grandpa mode, a sweet smile on their face, their gestures studied to be as harmless as possible. They were taking immense advantage of their slender build and generally unkempt look and usually, it worked.

When he saw who exactly they were dealing with, the Master couldn't help but have his doubts.

The girl didn't catch his attention for very long, she immediately registered as Human+ and well, that was a problem for later. The issue was with her companion. Under the mask and the fake hair and the terrible outfit, he could very easily recognize himself. His eyes met Razor's, who smiled at him with unaligned teeth poking from behind his chapped lips. At least the disguise was convincing.

“Hello there,” said the Doctor before shaking Bill's hand, then Razor's – without even noticing anything, that bloody idiot. “I'm the...

\- Person who's leaving right now,” interjected the Master, catching them by the arm to pull them away. “So sorry to have disturbed you. Have a very pleasant day.”

He had hoped that the Doctor wouldn't use their permanent telepathic link to check the reason of his worry. As per usual, his hopes were in vain. The Doctor's pale eyes became round and wide as they stared at him, then at Razor, then at Bill, then back at Razor, then at something on the shelf nearby, then at their feet, then at him, then at the couch, then he stopped trying to follow because they had quite obviously gotten themself lost in their train of thought again. The problem being that they weren't moving, feet anchored in the ground, and the Master knew better than to risk making them angry or even worse, scaring them. He had done that once. Never again.

“Ah, yes,” said the Doctor, snapping back to reality. “I'm... the... Bubblemaker. Pleased to meet you.

\- Uh... I'm Bill, and that's Razor,” replied the girl. “Thought I'd met everyone down there... What's with the title, mate?” She frowned and stared at the Doctor, trying to figure something out. “I'm not super fond of people who call themselves by titles these days.

\- That's – well, that's unfortunate,” said the Master with his most pleasant smile. “My friend here is a bit of an eccentric, you'll have to forgive – I'm James, James Stoker.” He had stopped using the Harry Saxon alias a while ago, never knowing who could be from the right time period to have heard of the infamous Prime Minister. Granted, now that they lived full time in the Fourth Universe, that was less of an issue; but quite obviously this was _not_ the Fourth Universe and more of an alternative timeline. Not knowing where the timelines diverged from each other, he chose to play it safe. “And we were on our way. Now, if you'll excuse us...”

But the Doctor's gaze had caught the screen that was displaying what was happening in the upper levels of the ship and in that moment, the Master knew there was nothing in the world he could do to keep them from trouble.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“So we're near a black hole,” whispered the Doctor. “Impressive. I'm guessing these people are on the top floor. Of course, with the massive difference in the gravitational field, the laws of relativity make it so that we're going much faster on this floor than they are...

\- Yeah. The Doctor's been raising his eyebrow for a week,” chuckled Bill. “Kinda boring, but Razor won't let me change the channel.”

The Master gave said Razor a long hard look that his other self in disguise pretended to ignore.

“The Doctor, hm?” asked the so-called Bubblemaker. “I've heard of th... him. He looks... well, could be worse. The eyebrows are a bit aggressive. And who's that?

\- That's Nardole. And this is Missy, she's like the Doctor, old friend of his apparently. Bit of a...

\- Yes, I see. I see.”

The Master didn't comment. Three of him on the same ship? How was _that_ for a paradox? Two of the Doctor, well, that was hardly a first. They tended to congregate with themselves at the oddest time, crossing timelines and having fun whenever they liked. It wasn't as bad as their brother, who regularly had tea with himself, but still.

“And you, my dear?” asked the Doctor, turning back to Bill. “Are you travelling with these people?

\- Yeah. Well, I was. Stuff... happened.” Bill would probably have left it at that. Really, she would have. She had no reason to trust these two new people that arrived out of nowhere and one of them... one of them had a title for a name. Just like the Doctor, her Doctor, the man who hadn't come to save her, the one who had abandoned her more than once and never quite treated her right. She'd spent weeks with Razor now and his slightly unnerving presence wasn't enough to distract her from all the questions going through her mind.

Mainly, why did her Doctor put her in danger so willingly, all for the sake of making Missy _better?_ And what was the deal with keeping Missy in a vault? And why the hell hadn't he come yet?

She wouldn't trust this Bubblemaker so easily. But the way they were glancing at her, the soft lines at the corner of their eyes, this messy crown of curly hair, the soft smile on their face, it reminded her of happier times.

Of someone she used to trust.

So she told them the whole story, from her angle. How the Doctor had been adamant on going on this adventure to test Missy, to see if she had become good, after locking her up for a thousand years. How he chose this ship trying to escape a black hole to see what she would do, how he didn't react when he heard that _things_ were coming for human beings specifically, how he let Bill be shot then taken away without lifting so much as a finger to help. How he told her to wait and she had waited, full of hope and love and the certainty that he'd come for her, in vain. Word after word after word, Bill's speech became full of bitterness and sadness. She had thought he was her friend.

He wasn't. She was just a distraction while he was trying to turn Missy exactly into what he wanted, into the perfect Time Lord companion, because she could never compare to another one of his species. She was there to be flabbergasted and impressed and to give him all the love and admiration he needed. Not to be his friend. Barely even his companion.

Bill Potts fought back tears and tried to stand proud in front of this person she didn't know, this person whom she had just told more about her feelings than anyone else before. Why? Really, Bill, why? That was silly. Nobody needed to know.

Except they did. Someone needed to know how she'd been discarded, treated like an afterthought, a pawn in a game that was bigger than her, all while being promised the universe. It wasn't like her to be so bitter and angry and she thought that maybe, just maybe, Razor's constant presence by her side had awoken something in her that she didn't know existed. Despite his good-natured appearance and his silly jokes about tea, he was full of rage, and she was sensitive enough to feel it behind the mask. She couldn't trust him, not anymore than she could trust her Doctor.

Silly Bill, she thought to herself. Can't stop blabbering out to strangers, heh? That's what got you in trouble.

The Bubblemaker gently took her hands in theirs and, much to her surprise, she saw tears in their eyes mirroring hers.

“I'm so sorry, Bill Potts.”

  
  


“What on sanity's name are you doing, Doc- Bubblemaker?” asked the Master, launched after the Doctor in yet another one of their dashing through the corridors while looking angry feat. Razor and Bill followed from a distance, both not quite sure of what was going on. Razor had recognized “himself”, of course, and had a faint idea of who was with the other, but... none of this made any sense. He had an other self and she was up there, on the deck, with Bill's Doctor, pretending to be his ally. Meanwhile, he was down there planning for the Genesis of the Cyberpeople and would soon take over the whole ship, as per usual, yadda yadda, still dying.

But that was the thing. The other Master did not seem like he was dying. In fact, he didn't seem to be a Time Lord, not anymore than the “Bubblemaker” was. Their biopsychic signatures were all wrong and didn't quite register in the right way. And this Master wasn't dying. He was strong, stronger than ever. Then why would he walk along the Doctor? The Doctor who had forgotten him, left him to die on Gallifrey, left him to be tortured over and over and over by the authorities, never to escape, never to see the light of day again?

Why would this other him have forgiven the Doctor?

Maybe it was like Missy. Maybe it was all an elaborate plot to take advantage and get revenge. Or something. Razor had to keep telling himself that and, most importantly, not let his cover be blown up by the other Master's presence.

“Hey, Razor,” asked Bill in a hushed voice. “That bloke... James Stoker. He looks like an old Prime Minister of my country. Think that's him?

\- Vell, vat vaz dis Prime Minister called?

\- Harold Saxon.

\- And he iz James Stoker, so he iz not Harold Saxon. Simple!”

He parted his hands and smiled at her, only to be greeted by a look of amused disbelief. Even Razor had started to treat her like an idiot. Great.

“Well,” explained the Bubblemaker to their companion who looked like a former Prime Minister, “I'm bringing us to the heart of the action. Or rather, bringing the heart of the action to us.

\- And what are we doing about the uprising that this guy's preparing?” asked the Master, pointing at Razor, who raised both his hands in a sign of innocence. “Oh, don't try me, my dear – there's a ship where people are being converted _en masse_ and you are here, I _know_ what you're doing. You were never very original, were you?”

The line went over everyone's head, except for Razor's, who bared his teeth at his other self. Someone had been spending far too much time with the Doctor.

He didn't know exactly how right he was.

 


	3. Chapter 3

The Doctor reached the elevators. Now there was no stopping them, thought the Master. They had barely listened to him talk about the Cybermen uprising that was going on, they were so buried in their usual rage to make everything right that they were forgetting important information. As per usual. The Master found himself wishing that they were traveling with someone who had a bit more common sense that this foolish genius. Like the Magpie, or the Mason, or the Magician. Hell, even Braxiatel would have been some sort of improvement.

“Do- Bubblemaker, just stop and think for a minute, will you? Pretend the Mason is here to sit you down and lecture you about interfering with other universes. We're not supposed to do that anymore, remember? No interfering. At all.

\- Technically, we're not supposed to interfere with _his_ universe, not _this one,”_ replied the Bubblemaker. “This one has no Mason that I know of and that's good enough for me.

\- What are you talking about?” asked Bill, visibly upset by everything that had been going on. “You barge in, not explaining a thing, and now suddenly you wanna take the lift to go God knows where and do whatever? Without telling anyone anything? That's very much like the Doctor – and I won't be part of it, thank you very much.”

The Bubblemaker stopped dead in their track and turned to face her. Even they could see a faint look of triumph on Razor's face. They'd deal with him later.

“I'm sorry. You're right. I'm... alright.”

They sighed and rubbed their temples, trying to get their thoughts in order. It had been quite a long time since they'd been on an adventure like this one, an adventure that didn't involve the future of an entire universe or several, one that was so mundane. Dealing with people one on one had never exactly been their _forte,_ as their track record with companions showed, but they had gotten better. At least, they thought they had. They would never have treated Bill this way, would they? They wouldn't have left her behind, they wouldn't have used her. They wouldn't have done any of the terrible things that this other them was doing.

It was time to prove it.

“Alright. Bill, my dear Bill – please, please sit down, I'm sorry, you're exhausted. You too, Razor, feel free. No running. No more running.”

The Master raised an eyebrow. His Doctor had struggled to be considerate of his limitations, back when they met and he was still dying. That was a pleasant change.

“Hey – you got a sonic screwdriver,” pointed Bill when she saw the screwdriver in the Bubblemaker's pocket. “Like the Doctor.”

That didn't sound like a good thing.

“No, it's... a sonic... potato peeler. Except it doesn't have a blade, so it's not good at peeling potatoes.” The Doctor shifted their weight from one foot to the other and looked at the Master, hoping for a bit of help. Their husband folded his arms, smirked, and let them get away with their lies. Ever so helpful. “Fine. Yes, Bill, it's a sonic screwdriver. I'm of the same species as the Doctor, and so is my companion here. The thing is... I know the Doctor, I know the Doctor far too well. And this, what he's done to you – it's unacceptable. You deserve better.

\- It's fine,” said Bill, only half convinced. “I mean, he saves worlds all the time. Can't stop for just one girl, heh? It makes sense. Especially if there's a Cybermen uprising ongoing,” she finished, looking rather pointedly at Razor. He had kept her in the dark as to why exactly he was doing... all the things he was doing. Why he was down there. The only thing he'd said that she thought was a little bit truthful was when he mentioned his dying. Then again, he had no visible cyberparts and she was pretty certain that he didn't have any, so he didn't want the conversion for himself – something understandable, seeing what it did to others. It started making sense with Stoker's comment. Once again, she was being used in a scheme where she was but a pawn. And once again, it had something to do with her Doctor.

She couldn't take this anymore. Of course, the Doctor was the saviour of planets, he couldn't stop for her, he couldn't just – but he could have kept her away from this danger, this time. He could have trusted her, told her the truth, and over and over again he lied and hid the truth from her. Didn't he think he could trust her? After all this time following him and respecting him and obeying him even when she doubted him the most? _Wait for me,_ he'd said. And she'd waited. She'd waited and waited and still he didn't come.

The Bubblemaker crouched to her side and took her hand again. It felt nice when they did that. Their skin was soft and their grasp firm but respectful, letting her take her hand back whenever she pleased. She didn't.

“There's never an excuse to treat anyone like that,” they murmured. “Not when you know what you're doing is wrong, not when you can change. Your Doctor – he knows what he's doing. I can assure you, he knows that. He may not admit it to himself but he's very much aware that he's not treating you right and for him, it doesn't _matter._

\- How can you say that? It matters to him, I know it does. He's the guy who saves people and sacrifices himself for them.

\- Does he, really? Then why is it you down here and not him?”

Bill stared at the Bubblemaker, eyes wide and mouth curved into an expression of horror and realization. He sacrifices himself. But only when he knows someone is coming to rescue him, only when he can make a grand gesture out of it. In these soft green eyes that were looking at her, she could see her own pain, mirrored in her direction so she couldn't avoid it by pretending everything was alright. By hiding her bitterness under the coat of loyalty.

“Bill... Your heart has been replaced by a Cyberheart. Did anyone explain to you how to take care of it?

\- He did,” she said, pointing at Razor. “But he said I wasn't strong enough to go out yet.

\- That's because he intends for you to be fully converted,” interjected the Master. “That way, you're not completely dead, but still taken away from the Doctor. He likes doing that. He gets jealous easily.

\- I do not know vat you are talkin about,” said Razor. “I do not know zis Doktor.

\- Oh, cut it. It's not even a good disguise. And this accent is pathetic.”

The Doctor and Bill exchanged a look of incomprehension. She thought that, at least, this Bubblemaker person was as perplexed as she was. That was a bit of a comfort.

“Oh, fine,” grumbled Razor, grabbing his disguise and tearing it off him. “What's the point of being the master of disguise if you get sold out by your own self, anyway?”

Bill stared at her guardian in amazement, then at this James Stoker guy. Once again, she was slightly comforted by the look on the Bubblemaker's face – they, too, hadn't understood anything that had gone on. In fact, they were so out of it that they were now blowing bubbles in the general direction of the conflict, showing how faithful they were to their name.

“What the hell?” she asked in the direction of the two nearly identical men facing each other. “What the actual everloving hell? I mean, ok, Razor isn't Razor, ok, he looks like the former Prime Minister, and there's another one here, and... is it a time travel thing? Are you from Razor's future?”

The Master raised an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised by how quick this girl was thinking. She wasn't quite right but she reached the exact same question as Razor himself, which made her just as quick-witted as him. Despite all of his faults, that was something the Master could appreciate.

“Not quite. Dearest?” He held his hand out for the Doctor, who caught it and let themself be pulled close. “I think you ought to do your great reveal too, now. You wouldn't want to be lying more than me – well, us.”

Razor didn't know what shocked him more. To know that he'd been right and this _Bubblemaker_ was the Doctor, to find out that Bill had more or less guessed it before he did, or the fact that his other self had slipped a possessive arm around this Doctor's waist.

In any case, none of this fared very well.

 


	4. Chapter 4

  
  


“Well in any case, it's a bit late to stop me,” said Razor. “I've had nearly ten years to work my way through this plan. The entire city is a converter. My army is going to strike very soon.

\- Was I ever that boring?” asked the Master to the Doctor, still curled up in his arms.

“You've always been _a little bit_ boring.

\- I have not!

\- Wait. Wait, wait, wait, hold on.” Bill looked at the three people surrounding her, her hands raised in an attempt to shut them all up. “So... the last ten years, the mess you've been doing... Razor, you told me you were trying to free the special patients! Trying to help them!

\- And you believed that, you -”

Razor couldn't finish the sentence. He would have expected either a laser or a sonic screwdriver threatening him or any other form of threat to his physical integrity, not... not that. Not bubbles being blown in his face in a very large amount, effectively shutting him up. It was either that or drowning in soap and water.

“That will be quite enough of that, thank you,” smiled the Doctor.

Bill started at them in disbelief, then at Razor. She'd always had her doubts about this guy, as anyone in their right mind would, but she never thought – she never wanted to think that he would betray her. No, not even betray her. Just plain use her. His plans had included her to the extent that her disappearance would hurt the Doctor. That was his end goal. And yet, there was this other version of him, standing next to another Doctor, holding their hand or slipping his arm around their waist whenever he got the chance, and he was just as done with Razor's bullshit as she was. Didn't make him trustworthy though.

And them – this Doctor. This Doctor who looked younger than hers and yet seemed to have seen a billion years go and die, who had this softness in their smile, who held her hands just like... just like she imagined her mum would. There was something motherly and kind and simple about them, something that resembled what her Doctor wanted to look like. She didn't trust them. She couldn't trust them. There were so many things she didn't understand and questions she couldn't ask. And just like her Doctor, they probably wouldn't answer.

“Bill – no, we're not from the future.” The Bubblemaker's voice – well, the Doctor's – startled her out of her thoughts and she stared at them, still undecided between anger, sadness, betrayal. “My timeline and your Doctor's diverged at some point, I don't know when. We're from...

\- An alternate universe. Got it. Ok... but then... I'm sorry, but what the fuck? I thought there were laws – and don't you fucking tell me not to be angry!

\- You have every right to be angry,” replied the Doctor, very softly. “Every right.”

Razor made an attempt at rolling his eyes and sighing. The Master did not let his other self have that leisure, casually putting the cannon of his own laster screwdriver under Razor's nose. He had much better ways to deal with things that displeased him by now, but that always ended up making the Doctor upset and quite frankly, he'd rather not deal with that kind of disturbances on the telepathic link at the time. The Doctor had this nasty tendency to be noisy when they were upset.

Bill stared at the Doctor. Every right to be angry. That was a change from... well, everything she'd heard. The stereotypes. The angry black woman, always, every time she expressed her feelings a bit louder than she _should have_ according to whatever laws. But then, this tiny creature who made bubbles to shut up people just told her that she had the right to be angry. If they were trying to manipulate her, it was working – and she could feel herself tearing up again.

“We arrived here by accident. I have no idea how or why – I was aiming for something more mundane but I am...

\- A terrible driver,” whispered the Master.”

“No, my dear, I am an _excellent_ driver, I just happened to be _distracted._ But, Bill – now, we're here. We can fix this.

\- What, you can fix _me_ too?

\- Do you think you need fixing, Bill Potts?”

The Doctor and Bill Potts looked at each other and, for the first time in nearly ten years, Bill Potts felt a slightly bit relieved.

 


	5. Chapter 5

“Now, I would say it's a pleasure to meet you, Doctor, but from what I've heard – not so much.”

Led by the Doctor, the little troop had taken the lift and reached the top floor, where Nardole, Missy and Bill's Doctor were still trying to figure out a way to go down. The Bubblemaker – Bill couldn't find it in herself to call them the Doctor; they were too different from the one she knew – had found a wheelchair for Bill who was quite grateful for this kind gesture; they hadn't bothered with such kindness for Razor. If he was in a good enough state to try to take over with a Cybermen uprising, he could most certainly walk.

Razor had expressed his lack of understanding for whatever had happened between Bill and this bubble-crazed lunatic that pretended to be the Doctor. No one had taken the time to enlighten him. Bill and the Bubblemaker were making plans in a hushed voice and the Master stood guard, keeping an eye on Razor – a very alert eye, as he knew full well what his other self was capable of.

Missy and her Doctor both stopped fumbling with controls to stare at the four people who had just walked in and it took the Doctor a minute to react, trying to go to Bill, to hold her. A bubble pipe extended between him and his companion, interrupting him.

“Common courtesy, Sir, requires introductions before hugging,” said the Bubblemaker with a smirk. “Bill?

\- Uh... yeah. Doctor, hi. I'm Bill.

\- I know who you are, Bill...

\- Do you though? Like, have you ever really looked at me? What do you know about me?”

The Doctor looked quite nonplussed and stared first at the Bubblemaker, then at Bill, then at Missy, looking for some help. He wasn't quite sure that the question asked for an answer but after a few minutes passed in complete silence, he figured that he had to reply.

“Well, you're – you work at the university, in the cafeteria. You like girls. Your mother died when you were very young. Is this a test? What's going on?

\- It _was_ a test,” purred the Bubblemaker. “And you failed it spectacularly.”

Bill was frowning, staring at her Doctor, and even Razor could read the hurt on her face. Not that he cared.

“Anyway, that's all well and good,” interrupted Razor, walking in the middle of the room, “but let's look at numbers. Three Masters – hello, Lady me, I like the hair – and two Doctors. I'm afraid you're slightly outnumbered. Shall we?”

His last question was directed at Missy, who hadn't said a word. She couldn't remember this, meeting her past self – let alone another one. Such a setting would have surprised anyone, even her, even when she was in this constant state of dissociation where nothing really made sense. There was the vault, then the Doctor's company sometimes, then she got to go out and save the day and pretend to be him. After decades of isolation, of being on her own in the vault with very little to distract her, this started to be all a bit too much.

“Oh, can you please just shut up?” groaned the Master. “She's not on your side. She's not on anyone's side except hers. Please try to remember your own pattern from time to time.” He didn't mention the glazed look in her eyes or the way she was standing near her Doctor, but slightly behind. He had seen that look, that behaviour before – not in himself or another version of him, no. In Lucy, yes. And in his Doctor, more recently. He hated it.

“Please go play war in your corner,” suggested the Bubblemaker. “We will deal with you later. Now is Bill's time.”

Bill could feel her heart, however robotic it was, pounding in her chest. Rarely had she been given the full freedom to express herself without being interrupted, without being looked down upon. She was in a wheelchair, yes, which made her lower than the other people in the room geographically speaking – but she felt tall. And she'd suddenly been given more importance than Time Lords, who had taken over her time and her energy for so long. That felt incredible.

“Doctor... the things you said, they're... facts. Not really me, just... things. They made me who I am, yeah, but it's not... it's not _me_. Am I just that? A collection of facts and memories you're taking from me? I'm more than that. I have a personality, I have desires, ambitions, dreams, goals, fears. Did you ever wonder what I wanted to study in uni? Why I wanted to study? Did you ever ask yourself, what does Bill Potts want?

\- I thought you wanted to travel with me.

\- Yeah, but why?

\- All of time and space – people usually do...”

The Bubblemaker huffed and chuckled incredulously. “The _arrogance,”_ they muttered under their breath, only interrupting themself when their Master nudged them. They may have been better than their alternate self in many ways but the arrogance was really not something they could comment on.

“Why didn't you come for me? Why did you tell me to wait? He did,” she said pointing at Razor, “but that was because he was waiting for the right time to unleash his Cybermen on the floors above us and hurt you in the process. He was waiting to convert me. But all this time, all of this bloody time, you could have just come down and rescued me, and you didn't! You didn't and if they hadn't shown up, I'd be a Cyberman too! What's up with that, Doctor?

\- Not even mentioning the most obvious question here,” chimed the Bubblemaker, “which is – since when do we trust the Master enough to bring our companions on an adventure where she's the one taking the reins?

\- It's Missy now. Short for Mistress. Couldn't keep calling myself the Master, now could I? The chipmunks wouldn't understand.”

For a second or two, the Bubblemaker and their Master stared at Missy in bewilderment. Not that she had finally spoken, for that was bound to happen given who she was and the general tendency of that person to go into lengthy discourses about being a villain, but because of what she had said. Missy. She had given up her name, her title, because of... because of the appearance of her body? The two Time Lords exchanged a look and a wave of perplexity through their telepathic link – but soon the Master sent images, memories, and his Doctor understood. They would let go of the part where she dehumanized Bill in a _very_ nasty way – for now.

“Well, I suppose – Missy, then.” Their smile had faded, just a tiny bit, and Bill could sense a wave of heat emanating from their body. That was unusual. “Anyway, back to the one who has to answer here. Doctor?

\- I don't – time goes differently here. It's faster at the bottom. For me, it's been...

\- For me, it's been _ten years,_ Doctor. Ten _years!_ You're a Time Lord, a literal Lord of Time, right? It does what you want, right? So how the hell haven't you found a way to save me? From something that should never have happened to me?”

Unfortunately for him, the Master let his _you go girl_ escape his lips right when Bill's speech came to a pause. Bill glanced at him and could have sworn she saw him blush ever so slightly.

“I'm leaving. I'm leaving with the Bubblemaker. 'Cause I can't go back to Earth, yeah? Not with this,” she showed her cyber-heart showing through her clothes. “Not while I'm not fully human. And even then, to do what? I've got nothing there. You took what little I had. My mates, they won't talk to me anymore, 'cause stuff keeps on happening near me. My foster mum, she doesn't trust me, she says I disappear too often, she wants me out. My classes, well, I've stopped attending them 'cause I was busy with you. So what now?

\- You can keep on traveling with me,” tried the Doctor. “You're alive and well, you can -

\- I can't. I can't walk for very long, I can't run, I can't jump anymore.

\- I can fix you.”

That was the worst thing he could possibly have said.

Bill let out a cry of frustration and the Bubblemaker had to stop the Master from outright giving her his laser screwdriver. She wouldn't have used it anyway – and there was the biometric command thing – but it wasn't the point. This was her anger. Not his, not theirs. They had sparked a flame within her and they would support her until the end of it, but they had no right to interfere unless she asked them.

“I am _not_ broken!” Tears were flowing down her cheeks as she spoke through her clenched teeth, trying ever so hard to hide the emotions that were overpowering her. “I am not! I am Bill, I am real, I am whole, whether I can run or not. I don't need _fixing._ Not the kind you do, anyway.”

She stared at her Doctor for a few more moments then wheeled herself out, followed by the Master. Razor was standing close to Missy, probably trying to get her to help him in his evil plan, leaving the Doctor and the Bubblemaker, alone and face to face.

“Are you gonna tell me I'm not the Doctor, then? That I don't deserve the title?

\- Oh, you're very much the Doctor. That's what you – that's what we do, what we've done through ages. I don't know when our timelines diverge. I know that you've destroyed lives, just as I have. The difference is that I'm aware of it, and I'm not trying to make everything into a show starring me and my ego.”

They took one step closer to the Doctor, who found himself recoiling. Somehow, this tiny and frail version of himself was more impressive than any other he could immediately think of, except maybe the very first one.

“But tell you what, _Doctor._ This is your chance. This world is soon going to fall prey to an army of Cybermen led by this imbecile,” they pointed at Razor, who did not appreciate being referred to as such, “and you will have to figure out who you're working for. Why you're saving people.

\- Because it's right. Because it's kind.

\- You are many things, my dear, but kind is not one of them.”

They closed the lid on their bubble pipe, stared at him for a few more seconds, then joined Bill and the Master in the lift.

The rest wasn't their fight to lead.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I *swear* I intended to stop at the previous chapter but then... then... uh.  
> It's ModernWizard's fault. (Because their fic is too amazing and gave me ideas.)

Bill was half asleep in the TARDIS, safe in a room that had shifted to accommodate her tastes in the blink of an eye. She had questioned her own sanity for following a Doctor and trusting them _again,_ she had wondered if this was a good idea – but anything was better than this one. Anything was better than the suit-wearing hell she'd just left behind. Besides, she could tell that this Bubblemaker was different. There was a darkness in them, a strength that she knew she had to be scared of, but they were... serene. Not like the other, who was just hurt and pain and screaming inside all of the time. The Bubblemaker had found the peace her Doctor could only long for.

She wondered if it had something to do with the one that traveled with them. The one who was Missy and Razor and yet wasn't. He, too, was very different from the other versions she had encountered. He had this same aura of peace that the Bubblemaker had. He wasn't frantically trying to get the Doctor's attention like Missy did, he wasn't full of anxiety and about to snap in half like she was; nor was he a bundle of rage and desire for vengeance like Razor. He was dangerous. He was a villain. That much she had gathered from her various encounters with different Masters: he wasn't a good guy. But he was a villain who was strangely kind and respectful, who asked for her consent before lifting her off her chair and into the bed, who made her tea and left biscuits on her bedside table and gave her a pile of books if she didn't want to sleep. A villain who, at any chance he was given, touched his Doctor and smelled their scent and, when he thought no one could see him, watched them with admiration and fondness.

Maybe she'd get that too, someday. Someone who'd look at her and see her as she was, for all the good and the bad and the mediocre, and see a person who shone brighter than a thousand suns.

The thought was sweet enough to make her fall asleep, a smile on her face.

  
  


The Doctor was sitting in the kitchen, their arms wrapped against their legs brought up to their chest, eyes closed as the Master's hands kneaded their tense shoulders. Usually, they were the one giving him massages, for he was the one who got himself all up in anger and tension most often – but they were grateful for this attention.

They had closed their side of the psychic link and the Master respected it. He knew that when they were in this kind of state, they had enough to deal with their own emotions and thoughts without adding his to the mix.

“I hope she's alright,” murmured the Doctor.

“She is. She's away from the other.

\- That's a start. But then what?

\- She'll tell you what. Right now, she's asleep.”

The Doctor tilted their head back to look at him, a slight smile on their face.

“When did you get so considerate?

\- It started when the Valeyard tried to dissolve my internal organs with your sonic screwdriver, my dear.” The Master planted a kiss on his spouse's forehead, enjoying the purr he got out of them. “And that purring right there certainly helped.”

The Doctor chuckled. A faint chuckle, but still better than the long face they'd been pulling. The Master sat down on the bench in front of them and not even a second later, they were on his lap. It had been eons since the pair had needed physical contact to communicate through telepathy but this habit of touching each other constantly had never quite disappeared.

“You mentioned the Valeyard.

\- Well, yes.

\- He was the Valeyard, wasn't he? This Doctor? He wasn't... he wasn't right.

\- I don't know if he _was._ But he certainly acted like one. A bad one, at that. You're far more terrifying when you go all V.”

He was trying to lighten the mood and it worked, for a few seconds. Still, the smile on the Doctor's face quickly disappeared.

“Promise me never to let me become like him.

\- I don't need to promise you that, love. I'd rather die than let you do to me what he did to her.”

They didn't reply right away, simply tightening their embrace and looking somewhere far far away.

“Doctor... you didn't do the same thing to me.

\- He wanted to make her _good._

\- And you didn't do that. I'm not good.” The Master chuckled as if the idea was preposterous. “I'm merely just too bored of being a villain. Really, what's taking over a few planets when the alternative is to fight entire armies of Cybermen or Omega himself alongside you?”

The Doctor didn't react. The Master's embrace tightened again, as if he were trying to absorb their body in his.

“Doctor... do you remember what you told me, a very, very long time ago, when I asked you if you wanted me to change?

\- I asked if you were talking about your clothes.

\- And then you told me that you didn't want me to change. That you wanted me to be happy.”

He slipped a finger under the Doctor's chin to make them look him in the eyes. The Master, sitting in the kitchen of the Doctor's ship, said Doctor cosy on his lap, was smiling.

“And that, my dearest, is the difference. He wants to change her to make himself happy. You just made me happy.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

“So, basically,” said Bill, drawing circles with her fingers on the table to illustrate her words, “you're from another timeline, you live in a different universe than the one where you were born, and you're, like, married. Yeah?

\- That's the gist of it.

\- And if I want to come with you... but not on Earth... New Gallifrey? Seriously? I thought Gallifrey was destroyed.

\- Oh, it was,” replied the Master with a smirk. He was sitting on the bench, his arm wrapped around the Doctor's shoulders, looking extremely pleased with himself. She figured that in his timeline, he had something to do with it. “But then it was rebuilt. And now it's a very diverse place. Loads of humans, for starters, they've even opened an entire section of the Academy for you lot.

\- But others too,” continued the Doctor, who hadn't said much since their humongous chocolate milkshake had reached them. “We've got literally every kind of person you can think of from a blue lady to an intersex person with tentacles, who had a daughter with an old friend of mine.

\- Everyone on Gallifrey is an old friend of yours, Doctor. Or an old problem of yours. Usually both.

\- Well – don't start, you, and it's _my_ milkshake get your filthy paws off it – yes. The Lord President is... we're close. He's said countless times he didn't want me to bring anyone else on the planet but he's too kind to refuse. You could attend the Academy, you said you were studying?

\- Well, yeah, but I don't think... I'm not clever enough to be in Gallifrey's Academy.”

The Doctor and the Master exchanged a look – and the Master took advantage of the Doctor's distraction to steal the candied cherry on top of their milkshake, much to his spouse's indignation. Bill looked at the two with a smile. It was hard to imagine that they were actually terrifying, overwhelmingly powerful creatures who could travel through universes. They just looked like two dorks fighting over a milkshake and unable to stand existing without touching.

“You're clever enough for anything you want to do,” said the Doctor. “Anyone who tells you otherwise is a fraud.”

She didn't reply right away as the waitress, a gigantic alien fish lady who winked at her twice already, brought her a plate of french fries. Munching on french fries and flirting with a fish lady was a priority.

“D'you think I could get her number?

\- Most certainly, she does seem very much into you.” The Doctor smiled, ever so gently – a smile that was so different from her Doctor's. “May I suggest asking her?

\- How does one ask an alien fish lady for her number?

\- Usually, with your mouth and words, although some have more eccentric ways of reaching that point.”

The waitress came back to ask them if they needed anything else. The Master, in all of his great magnanimity, ordered another chocolate milkshake for his spouse, with two candied cherries on top, before turning back to Bill.

“Anyway – point is, you can stay on New Gallifrey. Or Earth. Or your universe. Frankly, it doesn't matter. _Ouch,”_ he groaned and cast a deadly glare at his spouse, who pretended to be completely innocent and that they had never stepped on his foot very harshly because he was being an inconsiderate jerk. “It's your decision.”

Bill thought about it. Again. She'd been thinking about it since the day these two dorks had rescued her from her Doctor and since then, she hadn't quite been able to find an answer. The Bubblemaker had said she could take all the time in the world to make up her mind as they had no reason to leave this universe urgently, but she figured they said that because they weren't too sure about how to leave anyway. And she _had_ to decide. Hanging around in the TARDIS, reading books and just relaxing and resting, sometimes going outside for gigantic milkshakes and fries, that was all well and good, but that wasn't a life. It was a parenthesis, and a very welcome one.

The Bubblemaker hadn't offered to make her their companion. In fact, they had stated that they didn't travel much these days, that they were old and grey and boring. She could tell that wasn't the truth but what they were hiding didn't seem quite as sinister as her Doctor's secret. Her main hypothesis was that they didn't want anyone in the vicinity when they were being intimate with their husband, which she understood quite well.

“The advantage of New Gallifrey is that we can give you medical attention there,” said the Bubblemaker, dragging her away from her thoughts. “We could bring you to Allat...

\- She's more specialized in... fertility issues,” pointed out the Master, an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

\- She is, but the other option is the Magpie and her associate, and we don't want these two putting their hands on Bill.” The Doctor turned to Bill with a smile and explained to her who all the people mentioned were. That felt nice – not being left out of the conversation. “There's also Dr Martha Jones, but I think she's taking a break at the moment. She's not in her prime anymore.”

A cloud of sadness passed on their face that they shook away in an instant, getting back their bright smile.

“She's a very old friend of mine. We met on Earth, she saved me with her last breath, that was our first interaction. She's a doctor, a proper one, with a degree. But she's nearing sixty now and the last few decades have been hard on her. You would most certainly like her.

\- Well then. I mean, you mentioned science space lesbians at some point, right? You needn't say more, I wanna meet the science space lesbians.”

The Doctor and the Master exchanged yet another look. Hopefully the Magpie and her associate would not get carried away and experiment a bit too hard on Bill. They both trusted the Magpie to be somewhat reasonable, although she had done more than her fair bit of messing up in her time; they were both a bit more concerned about her girlfriend. Her _associate,_ as she persisted to call her.

“I should warn you that they're... dangerous.

\- I know, you mentioned. But like, they're not bad, right? Just... too enthusiastic.

\- That's one word for it,” chuckled the Master. “The Magpie has gotten better since the CyberWar though, and the President keeps a close eye on these two.

\- But like. Seriously, guys... you're not saying I could study at the Academy and work with the two main scientific advisors to the Lord President of Gallifrey, right? That's _insane._

\- We're not saying that, no,” tempered the Doctor. “We're saying that _if you want to,_ you can take the entrance exam for the Academy and study there, and go work with the Magpie who can tend to your cyber-heart _if you so desire,_ but that's not mandatory. You can also work with Gary at the bar or join the Magician and his team of terrorists.

\- Terrorists?!

\- They're only called terrorists because sometimes they make stuff explode,” smiled the Master. “But never dangerous stuff. Generally bad stuff.

\- Ok... but I don't know all of these people.

\- That's fine. You don't have to. We can go there and introduce you and help you find your place, we can bring you back to your Earth and figure something out regarding your heart, or to our universe's Earth... Bill, you're not a child that we're babysitting here. We're not gonna make the choices for you. Hell, we even didn't do that with our own children.”

Bill couldn't help but smile, brightly, fondly.

She could already tell that life with these two dorks was gonna be much, much nicer than the one she was leaving.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me : ok this fic is finished  
> ModernWizard : asks me a thing  
> me : ok three more chapters then

“Do you have a name, aside from _the Master?”_ asked Bill while said Master was showing her around the Doctor's impressive collection of junk from outer space. “Kinda don't wanna call you that.

\- I'm afraid not, my dear.

\- I could call you, like... the Professor. You look like a Professor.”

The very bemused chuckle she got as an answer surprised her and she turned to face the Master, eyebrows raised in confusion.

“Not the Professor, please, dearest. I knew a Professor. Another me, somehow. From the First Universe.”

Now _that_ got Bill's interest. The Bubblemaker's hoard of trash was indeed fascinating and she wondered how they had not gotten themself eaten by something in their ship already, but stories – stories were much better than baubles. Since there wasn't much to do while they were waiting for the Bubblemaker to return from _whatever den of iniquity they have decided to bury themself in,_ to quote the Master, stories would be nice to pass the time.

“So, this First Universe thing...

\- Hm.

\- How does it work? Like, comparing to mine?

\- Come on, my dear. You know the answer, you're just afraid to speak up because you think you're wrong and I'll mock you. Let's be honest with each other, I'll mock you anyway, so just tell me what you think.”

He was encouraging, in a very... unpleasant way. Not unpleasant, no, that wasn't the right word. He just didn't try to pretend to be nice, keeping everything polite but not _fake,_ not like Missy did. He was sincere and that was something Bill had been deprived of for a long time. She appreciated even more that he'd hint at her being intelligent and knowing the answers in this way.

“Hm. Ok. So... My universe is parallel to yours. And yours is the Fourth, right?

\- Technically, the Doctor and I come from the Third. But we live in the Fourth, yes.

\- So it's a line of universes. There are... several parallel lines? Like garlands? Stemming from something, I guess? Like, there's a point of convergence when you reach the infinite...

\- See? Told you you knew the answer.”

He didn't act like she had just solved Fermat's theorem on her own or done anything impressive. Not like her Doctor who always looked at her like he would a dog who had just learnt a new trick. Bill felt something she hadn't felt in a long time: pride.

“And you know your other selves? Wow, first, ok, you have other selves? Do I have other selves?

\- I have no idea. I would think not.”

From her Doctor, the comment would have sounded dismissive, making her feel like she wasn't important at all. But the Bubblemaker's husband, as manipulative and domineering as he was, didn't make it sound like an insult. It was merely a fact, an opinion, that didn't say anything of his opinion of _her_ or her place in the grand scheme of things. In fact – part of her liked to think he just called her Unique.

“And yes, I do know my other selves. A lot of them. There was a... situation, recently. All of my other selves and all of the Doctor's had to gather to save the universe. Really, that was an unpleasant time. So yes. First Universe me was called the Professor.

\- Which other names should I avoid, then? There's all the people you know, so... the Mason, the Magician, the Magpie?

\- You have a good memory. Yes. The Peacemaker, too, although that one would never suit me anyway. Probably a bunch of other. But you said you had a thing against titles...”

He remembered that? Bill looked at him, slightly surprised, then gifted him with one of her brightest smiles. The kind of smile that lifted her high cheekbones and showed all of her teeth and made her dark eyes glisten with happiness. She kicked her feet from the footrest on her wheelchair to show her excitement.

“Ok, ok, I've got the _best_ idea. So, your spouse is the Bubblemaker, right? Bubbles. There was this cartoon I liked when I was a kid, the Powerpuff Girls...

\- I'm going to stop you right there.

\- Oh, come on...

\- If my spouse is any character from the Powerpuff Girls, it's _Him._ Believe me, I've seen them in heels.”

Bill stared at him in amazement for a few seconds before bursting into laughter.

She still wasn't closer to finding him a name.

 


	9. Chapter 9

When the Doctor's TARDIS landed in the colony ship again, Razor was somehow alone. Missy and the other Doctor had sauntered away somewhere else, probably in the hopes of stopping whatever bad deeds were happening, Bill already forgotten. That wouldn't have been much of a surprise: after all, this Doctor had spent precious minutes drawing diagrams and explaining science to people who didn't really care instead of figuring out how to save her, why not just forget her the second she was gone? At this point, she was but a plot point, not a person. The Doctor's jaw clenched at the thought.

But since Razor was alone, they would start with him. The few choice words they had for their other self could wait.

“How long have I been away?” asked the Doctor, sliding next to him. Razor didn't acknowledge their presence, focused on whatever he was doing – opening vents to let his Cyberarmy come through, deactivating the security systems on top of the ship, something in the same vein. Didn't really matter. He wouldn't be doing it for long.

“Five minutes,” he growled after a few seconds. “Five blessed minutes of not having you around. Did you get better at driving somehow? You're not usually that precise.”

The Doctor didn't reply – he didn't need to know that it was all sheer luck.

“During these five minutes, your Cybermen have advanced. They must be on floor... 509, maybe? They have had time to develop quite an army and a far better technology than the Mondasian one.

\- What's your point? If you're here to blabber, please do it at someone else. That girl, for example. She listens well. At least she has a few redeeming qualities.”

Unfazed by his attempts at being nasty, the Doctor sat down on the desk at which Razor was working and smiled softly.

“I'm here to talk to you, yes. Amongst other things.

\- Then please don't.

\- They cured you, on Gallifrey, didn't they? They cured you of the loss of your life force.”

Razor stopped working and his eyes glazed over, as if he had just received a shock. It lasted only for a second before his mouth formed a smirk and he chuckled, arms folded on his chest, chasing away the smallest bit of vulnerability he could have shown.

“Yes.

\- Why?

\- It was a deal. A mutually beneficial deal,” he continued before going back to his endeavour.

“And why did you accept it?”

Another silence. This time, Razor's eyes remained on the computer he was working on and he clenched his fists. This Doctor's proximity was unsettling, to say the least, but having to think again about what had happened on Gallifrey – there was nothing worse.

“Because that's what I do,” he finally said in a hoarse voice, as if he were spitting in rage. “I _survive._ The Master of Survival, remember?

\- Of course I do. Then tell me, what do you think will happen when the Cybermen reach the top?”

He got up and his moves betrayed the intensity of his anger. Sharp, fast, barely controlled. The Doctor could see his knuckles turning white and the corners of his mouth pulling down, his eyebrows frowning, his ferocious attempts at keeping his cool and his failure.

“It doesn't concern you, _Bubblemaker._ And even if it did – I'll win. That's what will happen.

\- Cybermen won't let someone who isn't a Cyberman rule them. Is that what you want?”

He huffed and went away to another console, one that had a big sign saying “energy supplies” on it. He was trying to reroute the energy supplies of the ship down to the levels where Cybermen were still being converted to make the whole process more efficient. Apparently, he had decided to ignore the Doctor completely – but they weren't keen on letting him do such a thing. Once again they slid by his side, almost close enough to touch, just enough to whisper in his ear.

“Did they hurt you that much that you don't ever want to feel again?”

They bounced away just before his fist hit them in the face. That was low coming from the Master – but this particular incarnation had always been prone to physical violence and this version, well... this version had never had any reason to calm down and channel his rage.

“You wouldn't understand,” he sneered, seething with anger. “You can't understand.

\- Try me.”

There was something in the Doctor's voice, in the way they held their body, that was even more unsettling than whatever they were saying. There was no fear, no rage, no sadness. Even though they could move fast, they only did so to avoid his punching, they weren't running around like other incarnations had done, they were just standing there, relaxed, their entire body language quite peaceful and serene, their eyes unwavering. And they were smiling. Not the smile that Razor had seen on the other Doctor's face when spying on them, no; it wasn't a smile full of frenzy and electrical energy that could barely be contained.

This Doctor was soft. Soft and sweet and yet – and yet they had no doubt that they would win. They didn't draw any pride or superiority from that. It wasn't a reason to gloat. It just _was._

Razor didn't like it one bit.

“It's none of your business,” he finally said. Not that it would deter them, that much he was sure of.

“But it is. Because it's you. Because you're hurt and because you're angry and you know you're never getting an apology, let alone anything to make it all better. It's frustrating to know that someone wronged you, that they're aware of it and that they don't care – especially when it's someone you care about so much.”

Razor wanted to avoid their gaze but he found himself unable to turn away. They weren't trying to control his mind, he would have felt it, he would have known. They weren't using any tricks, in fact they didn't even seem to carry a sonic screwdriver or any weapon. They came to him unarmed. Just to _talk._

He hated that, too.

The laser screwdriver made its way from his pocket to his hand in the fraction of a second and he pointed it on their hearts, right where Bill had been stricken not so long before – at least in this temporality. “I could kill you,” he smirked.

“Then do it.”

They smiled, hands in their pockets, not even moving one bit. Daring him, almost – but not exactly. If this Doctor had been offering a challenge, Razor may have taken it, just to prove something (to whom, he wasn't sure, it didn't matter). But it wasn't. Once again, it was the peaceful, absolute certainty that he wouldn't fire. And something told Razor that even if he did, it wouldn't do anything.

Slowly, his arm lowered.

“You have a right to be angry,” whispered the Doctor. “You have been abandoned by your friend. The one person you ever cared about other than yourself. But you know what?

\- What? The Doctor never actually stopped caring? I should forgive to move on?

\- No.” Their voice had suddenly dropped and felt just like a frozen blade, cutting the edge of his thoughts. “Forgiving and moving on – you may certainly _choose_ to do so, but I would be ill-advised to make such recommendations when I did not forgive all of those who have wronged me myself. Forgiveness is overrated.”

Razor had hoped to make them recoil by showing anger, by threatening them – he found _himself_ taking a step back, astonished by what he'd just heard. _Forgiveness is overrated?_

“But you are the Master of Survival, as you said yourself. And the Master of Survival would never let himself be killed by Cybermen to become their ruler. Not even to spite the Doctor and, believe me, that one won't even blink.

\- I won't _die._ Even if they convert me – I'll lose my emotions, yes. Emotions make people weak, what do I care?

\- Do I look weak to you?”

Razor didn't answer.

“Considering how these shenanigans have turned out so far, there are only two endings possible. Either the Cybermen win and you will be converted, transformed into an empty shell who will not get any joy from ruling the world – not mentioning that you will still be crashing into a black hole – or you will end up siding with the Doctor and dying anyway. Because they don't trust you and because this other you, this Missy, is highly unreliable – and _she_ is self-destructive enough to kill you. You will probably regenerate into her, I doubt that is something you want.”

This time, Razor considered the Doctor's words and looked at them for a bit longer. It felt a bit like staring at the Sun without blinking. There was something about them, something bright and burning and deadly, and yet so soft and warm when one didn't look right at it. He felt a tightening in his throat that he attributed to the bubbles they had blown in his face.

“Fine. Let's admit you're right. Then what?

\- We already changed time by taking Miss Potts away from this place. You can feel it too, I assume? Time has shifted. You are now free to make of that what you please.

\- Aren't you supposed not to mess with time or something? Where's your usual sanctimony, Doctor?”

The slight smile on their lips was unnerving. Razor couldn't point out if it was because of the aspect of these lips – very red, full and welcoming – or because of their general attitude. Probably both.

“Nevermind me, my dearest.” They smirked, taking a step towards him, and it took all of his self-control to not take a step back. “You are a Time Lord. The laws of time obey you, don't they? Or have you lost your touch, Master?” By Omega – this deep purring in their voice was disturbing. And they were taking another step forward. “You have the power to change this. To save yourself, to save your own future. And then, maybe, just maybe – you can find peace.”

Razor felt them slide something on his wrist before they disappeared, too fast for him to react and follow them through whichever corridor they had chosen for their grand exit.

He wasn't entirely surprised to find that they had gifted him with a fully functional Vortex Manipulator.

 


	10. Sometimes kindness is a kick in the arse

“I changed time,” announced the Bubblemaker, not without pride, in the general direction of their other self. “Or, as someone I used to know would say, _fuck you._ But then again, I never really approved of his language.”

The Doctor spun around to face the Bubblemaker, eyebrows raised in confusion. Surely he had felt time shift too, or he was barely deserving of the title of Time Lord – but much to the Bubblemaker's surprise and dismay, Missy poker her heavily decorated face from behind the Doctor's back and grinned at them.

“Aw, that's sweet. Kitty played with time and now kitty is showing its claws. Come on, Doctor, we've got better things to do, yeah? Saving the world and yadda yadda. Well at least now we have a replacement for Exposition. Can we trade Comic Relief for someone else though? I'm getting bored of him.”

Nardole didn't even reply to her comment, used to her snark and general meanness and totally unfazed. The Doctor didn't even tell her to shut up, to watch her language, to be nice. The Bubblemaker raised an eyebrow and the corner of their mouth twitched, as if willing to go into a smile but not quite ready yet.

“Congratulations, Missy, you can bark. But where's your bite?”

She was about to answer with something either naughty or unpleasant or both, but something in the Bubblemaker's expression made her stop dead in her tracks. It wasn't anger, it wasn't righteousness and to be honest, she couldn't quite figure out what it was, this flame in their eyes, the way the corner of their mouth raised just a bit, the way their eyes looked down at her as if they were a thousand feet taller than her. They weren't. A few inches, maybe, not much more. But their presence was impossible to ignore.

“Your friend Razor has gone,” continued the Bubblemaker, casually walking towards the Doctor. “Someone gifted him with a fully functional Vortex Manipulator. His ship may not work anymore but he is now free to roam around the universe and do whatever misdeed pleases him.” Suddenly, they were right next to the Doctor, standing just a few inches too close, an unpleasant smile on their face and their hands clasped behind their back. “Wreaking havoc, as per usual. I wonder, though – I wonder how comes our friend Missy is still here. Could you perhaps enlighten me, my dear?”

The Doctor stared down at them from all his height and huffed. Better things to do than to converse with whatever this was, this weird creature who pretended to be him. There was a _world_ to save, after all. People. Real people, down there, losing their lives to Cybermen. He couldn't possibly just sit still and be idle when this was all happening.

He didn't grace the Bubblemaker with an answer and turned around to mess on the computers, surely with the plan of stopping the Cybermen's ascension by shutting down the whole elevator system. That wouldn't work. Cybermen could easily blow holes in the layers separating the different levels and getting rid of elevators wouldn't slow them down. They wouldn't even notice it.

The Doctor, on the other hand, did notice the flames that had started burning his sleeves. He didn't take the time to figure out where they came from before extinguishing them, looking rather furious at the general situation and at the Bubblemaker in particular.

“Did you do this?

\- Maybe.” The Bubblemaker blew a giant bubble in the Doctor's direction, their expression indecipherable again. “Maybe not. But I got your attention. Now, where were we? Ah, yes. Razor is gone, which means he will not die here and not regenerate into you, Missy. So why are you still here?” They folded their arms and stared at their other self. “What have you done?

\- She's a fixed point in time. The Vault is a fixed point in time.

\- The Vault?

\- Well, my dear friend here made a promise to _watch over my body_ for a thousand years,” said Missy with a grin. “Instead of taking advantage of the situation, he locked me up in a Vault. At least I got Chinese takeout and a piano.”

She leaned on the Doctor and put her hand on his shoulder, a smirk on her face, and the Bubblemaker suddenly felt nauseous. Locking the Master up. That brought back terrible memories. Horrible memories of... things they didn't want to think about ever again. For a second or two, the Bubblemaker lost a bit of their aura, and that was maybe scarier even than seeing them in full force.

When they spoke again, their voice had gone down by a few decibels and was barely audible, soft as velvet, slow, hypnotizing.

“You locked her in a vault and guarded her because... you wanted to keep her safe?

\- I wanted to keep the world safe from her.

\- And you released her to test her supposed goodness?

\- Yes.”

The Bubblemaker lowered their gaze and their dark curly hair veiled their face for a second or two. Then, in the span of a millisecond or even less, their entire body tensed up and when their voice resonated again, it seemed to fill the room with power and rage.

“And what do you think happens to people and animals and birds when you put them in a cage? What happens to those who lose their freedom? More than anyone else, you should understand what it means – you should understand how much self-determination and freedom matter. Have you ever seen what happens when you put a tiger in too small an enclosure? Or even an otherwise friendly creature?”

They weren't screaming, yelling, they were barely moving; but suddenly even Missy couldn't stop paying attention to their voice. No trick. No ace in their sleeve, no mind control, no nothing. Just them and their rage.

Even the Doctor recoiled a bit.

“It bites,” spat the Bubblemaker. “It bites the hands that feeds it. Because no one, no living creature should ever be imprisoned like this. Especially not for a thousand years. What do you expect? What you are doing, my dearest, is breaking your best friend. The only friend you've ever _deserved.”_

There was a lot of anger and bitterness in their words and for a second, the Doctor seemed to have understood. Understood that he wasn't any better than anyone else despite what he may have thought, that his human friends had made him slightly more tolerable but not enough, that he was indeed breaking the one friend he had that was even remotely like him – but the moment of reckoning passed and he shook his head, raising his hands as if to indicate defeat.

“You know what – fine. Be angry at me. I still have a world to save.

\- And you had plenty of time to do that while I was talking to you,” replied the Bubblemaker, their voice back to its usual soft and low tone. “But you didn't. You listened, you stared, you pondered. The Cybermen have ascended a hundred floors.

\- What? What?! Then stop talking! We need to save these people!

\- They are safe. All of them. Do you know how easy it is to save people when you have a literal time traveling machine that is bigger on the inside? To just open your doors and let them all in, floor by floor, before taking them away somewhere safe? Surely _you_ thought of that, _Doctor.”_

The Doctor couldn't find anything to say. He could only stare in dismay, trying to come up with a witty remark, something that would contradict what his other self had just said – but they were right. It could have been easy. There was a black hole, yes, and it was messing with time; black holes had a nasty habit of doing that. It wasn't a first, however. He'd seen black holes before, he'd been around them. The TARDIS could have managed.

“And now the Cybermen are ascending in a very empty ship. Think of how _furious_ they will be when they realize there are no life forms that can be converted. When they reach _you_ and realize you are the last three living beings on here.

\- Four,” said Nardole. “You're still with us, and that's if they stopped only converting humans.

\- Unfortunately, Razor left you a little present before leaving. He changed the biological data that the Cybermen use to find convertible material. If I had to make a guess, I would suppose he included Time Lords and whatever you are in the genetic pool.

\- Then you're at risk too,” grinned Missy. “Doctor, I suggest we restrain them and let them be eaten first. I'd enjoy that. Can we? It's still a villain thing but...

\- I am afraid the only person who has a right to restrain me is my husband, dearest. You are, however, quite free to try, if you are feeling so inclined. I would advise caution.” The Bubblemaker smiled at her, looking ever so soft and pleasant and gentle. “I am told I bite hard.”

The word of husband got to both Missy and the Doctor, who exchanged a look. Husband. It was rather obvious who the Bubblemaker was referring to and yet neither of the two could quite believe it. As for Nardole, he had already left the premises on a series of very childish “ew ew ew” that made the Bubblemaker smirk.

“What do you _want?”_ finally asked the Doctor, looking at the end of his rope. “What's the point of all this? If you're me – aren't we supposed to do what's right, what's kind?

\- Well, we are not _supposed_ to do anything, but I do try to do what is kind as often as possible. And sometimes, my dear Doctor, kindness is a kick in the arse. Now run to your ship, protect your people, ponder on your life choices. At the risk of sounding cliché, tomorrow is a brand new day – and one can only hope that it will see you wake up realizing all the wrong you've done and maybe, just maybe, if this universe has a bit of sheer luck, trying to fix it.”

  



End file.
